


Cyan

by niklitera



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - Fandom, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awesome Mix Vol. 1, BAMF Fawn, Everything actually fits wow, F/M, From Iron Man to Winter Soldier, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, I'm adding so many original characters for other stories, Iron Man 1 Compliant, Lots of song references, Pepper and Tony are just friends, Peter Quill Feels, Peter Quill's Cousin, Rhodey is a very nice person, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Yinsen feels, friendship fic, it took me a long damn time, it's so funny cause y'all don't get it yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2628170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niklitera/pseuds/niklitera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, a few weeks ago I probably would've thought myself crazy for doing this," her smile was honest, though, and he seemed pleased about it, letting his exhaustion show for just a moment, along with everything that she thought she'd never see in a man like Tony Stark. "But then again, a few weeks ago I wasn't captive in a cave in the middle of Afghanistan, so don't get too cocky, Stark."</p><p>"Wouldn't dream of it, Quill."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> So hello and welcome to this little universe I'm about to create! Now, this is very Iron Man 1 compliant, but there will be things that change either because of me or because the comics are better than the movies (which is most of the time but, you know, MCU, whatever, ruin the Hulk and the Mandarin, yeah). 
> 
> Now, this is the first story of a series, so if you want romance then just you wait, guys, I'm working on Tony's other half (we all know it's Bruce but whatevs) as OFC (or OMC, I don't even know). 
> 
> This fic will be mostly centered in Tony and how he changes throughout the first and second movie, why he does what he does and the development of his friendship with Fawn, whose past and backstory will be revealed throughout the pages of this story.
> 
> Please, recommend and review and yadda yadda. Mostly I want to know whether I'm screwing this mayorly up or just, you know, doing it decently. Thanks for reading and all.
> 
> Now, go ahead and enjoy!
> 
> -Nico.

A grunt on her left made the corners of her lips lift up slightly. Her eyes raised and found two dark orbs watching the man lying down next to her. She ignored the movement and kept cleaning her hands of grease, trying not to stain her already ruined clothes. She counted a total of ten seconds before Yinsen spoke.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

She finally looked to her right, where Tony Stark, _of all goddamn people in this world_ , looked horrified as he followed the wire attached on his chest to the car battery over the table. She would’ve felt bad if it weren’t for the fact that it was his own weapon that had gotten him into the situation.

Her eyes fell away from his hands ripping away the bandages and she found a clean enough towel to dry her hands. A few blonde and pink strands of hair fell into her eyes, the dye washing away after so many weeks stranded inside the cave with nothing but weapons and Yinsen—and now Tony Stark, she supposed.

“What the hell did you do to me?” he croaked, alternating his eyes between Yinsen and her. A pickle of annoyance hit her.

“He saved your life, you ass,” she scoffed.

Stark watched her and she felt guilt crawling under her skin when she found him pale, sweating, scared. So scared. This wasn’t the Tony Stark from the news but she still couldn’t look at him without feeling hatred in her bones.

“We removed all the shrapnel we could but there's a lot left, and it's headed into your atrial septum,” Yinsen explained, smiling at her when she passed him a small screwdriver she’d found under the table.

He took the small jar with the shrapnel and she glanced at the Merchant of Death laying on the table. If it had been her alone, she’d have let him die, to be honest. It wouldn’t have been the worst thing she’d done.

“Here, want to see? I have a souvenir. Take a look,” Yinsen threw the jar and Stark grasped it with a shaky hand. “I've seen many wounds like that in my village. We call them the walking dead, because it takes about a week for the barbs to reach the vital organs.”

“What is this?” the billionaire touched the metal and winced a little.

“That is an electromagnet,” she answered, finally giving him her full attention. His eyes zeroed on her face and she sighed when he didn’t leave the black bruise over her left eye. “hooked up to a car battery, and it's keeping the shrapnel from entering your heart.”

Stark looked about to have a damn heart attack, which would be just delightful. Instead, he surveyed the room around them, finally locking eyes with one of the cameras surrounding them.

"That's right. Smile,” Yinsen let out his own cynic smile. “We met once, you know, at a technical conference in Bern.”

“I don’t remember,” he mumbled.

"Why doesn’t that surprise me,” she scoffed again, and he seemed about to send her a glare when he thought better of it, glancing away.

“No, he wouldn't,” Yinsen seemed amused. “If I had been that drunk, I wouldn't have been able to stand, much less give a lecture on integrated circuits.”

A bubble of laughter peeled from her throat, unable to keep it down, and Yinsen chuckled. Stark didn’t laugh.

“Where are we?”

She was about to open her mouth when the familiar sound of the thick doors opening made her tense.

“Come on, stand up,” Yinsen always kept his cool when they came but she was sure he was as scared as her whenever their captors came in. “Stand up!”

She jumped into action, grabbing Stark’s arm and pulling on it. He hastily grasped the car battery and cradled it against his chest. The three of them moved so they were at least a foot apart from each other and facing the doors.

“Come on, put your hands up,” Yinsen directed Stark on her right. She glanced at the doctor on her left and he gave her a wavering, reassuring smile. She tried to return it.

"Those are my guns,” his voice was faint and she tightened her jaw. Did he realize now what his empire had done? “How did they get my guns?”

“Do you understand me? Do as I do!” Yinsen chastised.

“Just shut up, Stark, and don’t get us into trouble,” she spat at him.

The men spread out, all holding Stark Weapons. She was used to it by now but the new presence by her right made her heart hammer inside her chest. Abu Bakaar entered the room, grinning at the mechanic beside her. Her blood ran cold when his eyes scanned Yinsen and herself, lingering on the dark bruise on her eye.

The bastard knew where it came from.

Spreading his arms wide, he began to speak in Urdu, or maybe Arabic. She wasn’t really sure, she didn’t know much besides Russian, German, Spanish and English. Yet Yinsen began to translate.

“He says, 'Welcome, Tony Stark, the most famous mass murderer in the history of America. He is honored. He wants you to build the missile. The Jericho missile that you demonstrated.’”

She didn’t know about the Jericho but by Stark’s face she knew it couldn’t be anything good. He was stiff, probably shaking with wobbly knees, like the first time she had woken inside this god forsaken cave so many weeks ago. Could’ve been months, for all she knew. Time blended in.

Bakaar grasped a photograph and gave it to Yinsen, who passed it to her and she finally showed Stark. He barely glanced at it.

“This one,” Yinsen whispered.

She was sure. She was damn sure of it, she could’ve sworn on her aunt’s grave that he would’ve nodded to save his own ass for the fifteen days he had until the shrapnel reached his pathetic, little black heart. But then he looked at Bakaar in the eyes and said with the firmest voice she had ever heard two simple words.

“I refuse.”

And that day, for the very first time in a long time, Fawn Quill was rendered speechless.


	2. II

The sun was bright, brighter than she thought so when the sac was removed she tightly shut her eyes. She knew what to expect and for a moment she wished she could just keep her eyes shut. So instead of focusing on the hurried men speaking in languages she mostly didn’t understand, she centered on the man in front of her.

Tony Stark wasn’t much. At least not in her eyes. He was bloody, bruised, damp and looking pathetically guilty and horrified as his eyes scanned the multiple weapons around. Fawn stared at him as Yinsen kept translating the pathetic excuse of a human being waving his arms around, looking proudly at his merchandise.

Bakaar had his eyes on the engineer, harmlessly happy and satisfied.

“He wants to know what you think,” the doctor softly spoke and Fawn ached to grab a hold of his hand. They’d been working until early morning on the electromagnet, when Yinsen needed at least a few hours of sleep to function. Fawn could go on forever if coffee was issued, accustomed to working long hours, but not Yinsen.

Not Yinsen.

“I think you got a lot of my weapons,” was the dry response of the billionaire. He turned, paler than before with cracked lips and a bloody spot on his lower one.

He was nervous, but then again he ought to be.

“He says they have everything you need to build the Jericho Missile. He wants you to make the list of materials. He says for you to start working immediately, and when you're done, he will set you free,” the translation made her nearly scoff but she held it in, feeling a gun digging on her lower back.

Fawn had a very vivid imagination, and the mere thought of what a gun like that could do to her sent a shiver down her spine. Stark glanced at her, then at Yinsen and finally at Bakaar, who was smiling at him.

“No, he won’t,” he concluded.

_Smart boy_ , she smirked.

“No, he won’t,” Yinsen nodded.

***

Fawn was rubbing water against her latest burn, wincing as the pain took over her arm. It was big, wide, and she longed for proper medical treatment—not hospitals, though. She’d always hated hospitals.

“I'm sure they're looking for you, Stark,” Yinsen began, and it was only then that she noticed the man was sulking. “But they will never find you in these mountains.”

It was kind of pathetic, but then again, she’d always thought celebrities were pathetic. No scientist, no real man, could be that arrogant, that conceited, that _cruel_. Somehow, having him in front of her made it less real. Made him more human.

Or maybe it was the battery and the utterly defeated look he had in his eyes.

“Look, what you just saw, that is your legacy, Stark,” Yinsen tried to reason, which made her roll her eyes and continue to dab water against the burn. “Your life's work, in the hands of those murderers. Is that how you want to go out? Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark? Or are you going to do something about it?”

“Just leave it, Yinsen,” Fawn threw the towel down. It was useless, anyway, and it’d heal soon enough, she supposed. “He’s not going to do anything.”

“Why should I do anything?” he turned to her, giving out a glare. “They're going to kill me, you, him, either way. And if they don't, I'll probably be dead in a week.”

Fawn opened her mouth, about to make a comeback when Yinsen placed a hand over her shoulder. She snapped her eyes to him and immediately dropped them to the floor. He was staring at her with a gentle pair of dark eyes, eyes that reminded her so much of her aunt—the warmth in them, the softness and caring. She felt ashamed of pouring salt on the wound.

“Well, then,” he rubbed the pad of his calloused thumb against the skin of her shoulder reassuringly and looked at Tony Stark with the same kind glance. “This must be an important week for you, then.”

There was silence, and Fawn saw another change in front of her eyes—the kind of newfound determination she’d only seen in another set of blue eyes before. She felt a tug in her heart, her fingers almost moving to her hip before remembering that her most precious device was in the hands of Bakaar.

Yinsen moved away from her, sitting on his worktable again. Fawn chewed on her lip, staring at Stark. He was lost in space, like so many times she’d been. She wondered what he was thinking of, or of who. She wasn’t really into gossip so she wasn’t sure if he was married or had a girlfriend.

She knew his only family had died in a car accident a couple of years ago, which made her heart clench painfully.

How ironic, their similarities.

“You know what?”

His voice startled both Fawn and Yinsen, leaving them staring at the man who stood up with a firm stance, parted legs and a solid look on his golden eyes.

“You’re right,” he pointed at Yinsen. “How do I call them?”

“Just bang on the door,” Fawn crossed her arms under her chest, cocking an eyebrow. “They’ll come right away.”

Before she could even blink, he had taken the car battery to push it against his shrapnel-filled chest and began to bang his fist against the front door. Yinsen gave her a little smirk and she kicked the metal chair he was sitting on softly.

“You know,” she whispered over to him as the doors opened and they both stood. “You’d make one hell of a High School Counselor. I really could’ve used someone like you in my Freshmen year.”

Yinsen just laughed and then began to translate, falling into his role with an ease that made Fawn question just how long they’d really been trapped. Fawn saw workers begin to pile inside, making her palms sweat and her knees wobble. She didn’t really do good when too many people walked inside the cave, not since the last time it happened.

For some reason, Stark had seemed to calm down and was in complete charge of his surroundings. He passed her, plucking her pencil from her jeans pocket as if they were long-time friends. She raised an amused eyebrow his way, watching the man giving out orders as if he’d been born to do it.

But then again, he’d been.

“lf this is going to be my work station, I want it well-lit,” Stark guided. “I want these up. I need welding gear. I don't care if it's acetylene or propane. I need a soldering station. I need helmets. I'm gonna need goggles. I would like a smelting cup. I need two sets of precision tools…”

Yeah, she didn’t like Tony Stark but if she had to work with someone, she’d rather do it with someone who knew what they were doing.


	3. III

Fawn cursed, lifting her finger to her mouth. Stark snickered, and didn’t stop when she sent him a glare. Yinsen smiled fondly at them, and she wondered when he didn’t look at someone fondly—aside from her captors, obviously.

“So how many languages do you speak?” Stark turned to Yinsen as he disassembled the weapon. Fawn was on the other side of it, unscrewing and getting small wounds with loose cables and sharp sides.

“A lot. But apparently, not enough for this place,” he gave a little sigh. “They speak Arabic, Urdu, Dari, Pashto, Mongolian, Farsi—”

“And Russian, too,” she added. “Though I can barely understand them, they have really thick accents.”

“What about you?” the billionaire was too close, so she placed her hand over his face and shoved lightly. He didn’t take offense, ignoring the gesture and leaning in again to keep working.

“Just four,” she shrugged, tucking a stray lock of blond and pink hair behind her ear. “English, German, Spanish and Russian. I speak Russian the best, after English, of course. They don’t really care—most of them think I’m only a piece of ass that shouldn’t be working.”

“Who are these people?”

Yinsen looked at him, a sigh escaping his parted lips before he leaned back against one of the columns. Fawn looked at her finger. It was still bleeding.

“They are your loyal customers, Sir,” he finally answered.

“They call themselves the Ten Rings,” she rolled her eyes and finally undid the last screw. “You would’ve thought they’d have proper tools.”

Stark didn’t say anything, just kept disassembling the device. It was a while until Yinsen stood and gave him an ultimatum she’d been hoping he’d make.

“You know, we might be more productive if you include us in the planning process,” he pointed at both Fawn and himself and she sent him a little smile. “Although Fawn seems fine with you bossing her around without purpose.”

“Well,” she began. “I’m bothered by it but I’ve got nothing better to do—”

“You do,” Yinsen corrected with a small frown, making Stark glance at them.

“I’m not going to do it,” she crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “They can torture me all they want, Yinsen, but I am _not_ going to make _anything at all_ for them. Not when they’re going to be used in wars that will break families and murder entire countries. I’m not going to contribute to a genocide.”

The doctor kept quiet, and she noticed the little spark of worry in his eyes. She quickly turned away and set to work on disassembling the closest device she could get her hands on. She knew Stark was watching her but she decided to ignore it.

“Uh, Fawn?” Stark called her and she sent a glare his way, taking the piece of junk from his hands.

“It’s Quill to you,” she snapped. “What do you want me to do with this?”

“Just throw it away, we don’t need it,” he reached inside and pulled a small ring with a pair of pliers.

“What is that?” Yinsen leaned in.

“P—”

“Palladium,” she answered, blues clashing with golden orbs. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “0.15 grams. We need at least 1 .6, so why don't you two go break down the other 11?”

To be honest, Fawn was grateful that she’d been given a clear purpose inside the cave. She’d been aimlessly doing about nothing, letting their captors believe that she’d been sick for the last four days and Yinsen had been taking care of her. Of course, they were seeing her working and they probably wouldn’t be fooled anymore. Worst case scenario, they killed her, since they already had Stark and she was sure he could make anything they wanted him to.

Best case scenario, another session of waterboarding.

Sudden nausea made her drop the chunk of metal in her hands, the sound alerting both Yinsen and Stark. Fawn grasped the table and dug her fingers into it, trying to ground herself on the real work, the now, where she was safe and there was no water and no demanding words in Russian.

She vomited.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Stark rubbed a hand on her back, crouching so he could push her hair away from her face. “You alright, Quill?”

“I—” she shut her eyes, feeling another wave of nausea wash over her. “I-I’m fine.”

“Maybe you should lie down a bit,” he suggested.

“You haven’t slept in two days,” Yinsen reminded her.

“Neither have you,” she sent a glare his way but he wasn’t deterred.

“Fawn—”

“Here’s the palladium,” she slapped the ring on Stark’s palm and swatted his hand away from her shoulder, standing albeit wobbly on her knees. “Need anymore?”

Tony Stark tightened his lips, and if she let herself believe that he was worried about her then she’d never forgive herself. So she shoved past him and counted the palladium they had so far.

“Alright, we have enough,” she snatched some safety gloves from the table and threw them at the billionaire, still sending her that look. “Stop being a stick in the mud, Stark, I’m fine. Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

The conversation was over, that much was clear, so they set to work once more and melted the palladium. She wondered why the hell they needed it but Stark didn’t say anything, so she didn’t ask.

“Careful, careful,” he told Yinsen as he held the mold. “We only have one shot at this.”

“Relax,” he smirked. “I have steady hands, why do you think you’re alive?”

Fawn laughed and when the palladium was inside the mold they moved away from the workshop and sat on the coolest spot of the cave. She let her eyes close and her head moved to rest against Yinsen’s bony shoulder. He patted her thigh and sent her a friendly smile.

“So Fawn Quill, uh?” Stark looked at her and she looked back at him.

“Yes,” she cocked an eyebrow.

“You sound familiar,” he frowned. “Please, tell me I didn’t sleep with you.”

“Oh, god, no,” she wrinkled her nose and Yinsen chuckled. “I’m not even around New York or Malibu. I liv—I used to live in Milwaukee. And then I guess I just moved around a lot. I was kidnapped by the Ten Rings when the military persecuted me after uh, stealing a bit of plutonium.”

“You _stole plutonium_?” his eyes widened.

“I know how to handle plutonium, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she scowled. “Much better than any of those military brats that followed me into international waters. I bet they know I’m here and they don’t give a shit.”

“What about your family?” Yinsen frowned.

Oh, that’s right, this was the first time she’d spoken about herself in the cave.

Her jaw tightened and her fingers crisped. “My cousin is missing. He’s—he’s the only family I’ve got left and all I wanted was to find him. But no one believes me and they’ve all given up.”

“I’m sorry,” Yinsen sighed.

“What about you?” she turned to him. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from a small town called Gulmira,” his smile was small but fond. Like always. “It’s actually a nice place.”

“Got a family?” Stark seemed genuinely curious.

“Yes,” the doctor shut his eyes for a moment, probably reminiscing. “And I will see them when I leave here. And you, Stark?”

He seemed taken aback, adopting an almost defensive pose before tensing greatly and then relaxing after his eyes darted twice between Yinsen and Fawn.

“Nothing…” he trailed off, and she could bet his mouth was dry. “No.”

“No?” the Gulmiran doctor was almost smirking. “So you’re a man who has everything and nothing.”

“I never said I had everything,” he gave out a weak, wavering grin.

And that was the moment Fawn decided that maybe, just maybe, Tony Stark wasn’t that much of an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like Yinsen. Seriously do.


	4. IV

“You know what I miss?” Fawn stretched on the chair she had flopped down on after Stark had finished one of the last pieces of his supposedly miraculous arc reactor. She didn’t believe it’d work but hey, never offend anyone religious—since Stark seemed to believe more in Science than her own father had believed in God.

“What?” it was Yinsen who answered, looking up from his pathetic excuse of a meal.

“Music,” she sighed.

Stark groaned as if he’d been stabbed, nodding with a pout.

“God, yes,” he threw his head back and shut his eyes for a moment. “Loud, fast, hard music to work with.”

“Almost deaf, letting it pump through,” Fawn was about to pout when she instead rubbed her face. “And 80’s pop, man. Shit, I miss my mixtape.”

“You have a mixtape?” Stark turned around and cocked an eyebrow, amused. “What? Do you also have a Walkman?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she frowned and tried desperately not to be annoyed with him. “Bakaar has it. I’ve seen it on his pocket, every single damn time.”

“Why would you own a Walkman?” the man seemed fixed on that, probably startled that someone wouldn’t take advantage of technology like he did. “I mean, even if it was an mp3, you stole fucking _plutonium_ and yet you couldn’t steal an iPod?”

“It’s got sentimental value, alright?” she spat back at him.

“That’s just dumb,” he scoffed. “You keep storing stuff, you end up full of junk on your lab. Sentimental value means that you just don’t want to move on.”

“You know w—”

A loud _clank_ alerted them of the door opening and her blood ran cold, feverish panic drowning her senses for a moment before Stark hid what he had done so far between papers. But the meal had been brought to them just a few hours ago and she knew they weren’t there for Stark or Yinsen.

They were grabbing her before Yinsen or Stark could even register it. She didn’t struggle, didn’t let them see the fear that buried deep inside her eyes, that burned behind them and made her knees knock against each other.

“Hey, hey!”

Stark was an idiot. She shut her eyes tight, willing herself not to cry as she heard the billionaire grunt, possibly after receiving a punch in the gut. He was an idiot. She was an idiot. Everyone was a fucking idiot.

She heard Russian, trying not to remember why she knew it. It would just fill her with hope and hope was no good when you were being tortured. Fawn didn’t cry until the half hour mark passed and then she was crying out, trying not to scream too hard in case Stark and Yinsen were listening.

“ _Будет теперь вы сотрудничать_?” the man leaned down, and Fawn’s vision was too blurry with pain to identify anything on his unfocused features.

But he didn’t appreciate being spat blood on his face.

“ _На кого вы работаете с_?” they asked, over and over again.

“ _Никто не! Никто не! Клянусь_!” she cried out.

“ _Расскажите о солдате, что ты знаешь о солдате_!”

“ _Я не видел его более чем за пять лет!”_

By the time they were done, she regretted ever living.

They threw her back into the cave, her body falling limp on the cold and damp floor. She heard the scrapes of chairs and soon enough, there was the comforting voice of Yinsen and a pair of calloused hands on her shoulders.

“What the hell?” she heard Stark curse multiple times.

“She was whipped, Stark, haven’t you ever heard of Afghan torture methods? What do they do to you? Push you a few minutes into a bowl of water?” Yinsen grasped her forearms and lifted her into his lap, making Fawn cry out when the muscles of her back moved and sent a wave of burning pain through her. “She probably didn’t give them what they wanted and they—check her knees.”

“What?” Stark’s voice was faint but oh, god, she couldn’t even think.

“Listen to me, Fawn, you need to stay awake.”

“I-I can’t,” she stuttered. “It h-hurts.”

“I know, dear, I know,” his hand was running through her hair, trying to soothe her but it was then that she started crying again. “Shh, shh…”

“I can’t-t do it, Y-Yinsen,” she sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck with fading strength. “I can’t d-do it.”

“It’s okay if you can’t, you’re human, you have limits, too.”

She felt hands on her bare, bruised and bloody back and the edges of her vision began to turn white. Stark was there, cursing away as he pressed something against the wide gashes. When he pulled it away, though, she fell limp on Yinsen’s arms and didn’t make a sound anymore.

The silence that took over was deafening.

“Fawn?” Yinsen tried, and the billionaire heard the little shaken tone.

“I can see her bones,” his hand shook when he dabbed at the wound. “It’s the pain, she’s okay, she’ll be fine, she’s—”

“I know she’s okay,” Yinsen gave out a little shuddery breath. “She just needs to rest. I have some clean bandages around my workshop, at my table, on the first drawer. It’s not much but I’ve got a few antibiotics, too.”

“She’s really gonna be okay, right?”

The doctor fell into a quiet stare.

“Right!?” the panic in his voice couldn’t be masked. And for the first time he realized just how real all of it was. Captive. They could be killed any hour of any day. And if that didn’t do it, the shrapnel would for him. Yinsen had a family. Fawn didn’t look a day older than twenty two.

“Right,” Yinsen muttered.

He didn’t find any comfort in the lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if the torture scene was poorly written, I'm sorry but I really don't like writing torture.


	5. V

The pain was by now a numb pump through her veins. She stirred, not really wanting to wake up but willing herself to. She could smell iron and different alloys she couldn’t recognize, letting herself relax. She hadn’t had any nightmares, just a dreamless sleep. It was probably that concoction Yinsen prepared that was miraculous.

The sound of tools clashing against metal and the humming of a too-well-known song made its way to her ears, making her smile.

“I can’t believe you’re singing _Another One Bites the Dust_ when I could be lying on my deathbed,” she croaked, her lips and throat dry as sandpaper.

“Fawn,” Yinsen’s voice came before his face, but she was relieved to see the happiness in his face. She knew it was irrational but she’d expected annoyance.

“Well, you did say you liked 80’s songs, and don’t expect me to sing Total Eclipse of the Heart,” Stark was on the other side of the bed, lifting his protective gear over his head and taking off his thick gloves, throwing them aside. His face was masked with amusement and boyish charm but she could see the worry.

Then she noticed his chest.

“Oh,” words escaped her, blue eyes widening.

“Hey, careful, careful,” they told her softly as she tried to sit up. It was painful, yes, but not nearly as much as… as—

“How long have I been out?” she frowned, eyes still set on the glowing device inside Stark’s chest.

“Two days,” Yinsen sighed. “Your back recovered pretty well, but it’ll take a long time for it to fully heal.”

“Okay,” she replied distractedly, lifting a hand without even thinking.

Her long fingers skimmed over the black wife beater Stark wore, scrapping against the metal underneath. She scooted closer to the man and he lowered his arms to give her the space she needed, seemingly fine with her intimate exploring.

Fawn lifted his shirt.

“ _Oh_ ,” she breathed out, feeling warm excitement swell inside her chest.

It was a beautiful piece of machinery. A circle of cyan light, surrounded by others. It was hard to believe that something so small could be keeping a man alive, and yet there it was, fully functioning. Oh, how she’d wished to see how it worked, how he made every piece instead of making small things to entertain herself around the workshop when she wasn’t needed.

Her right hand, the one that had been resting on the bedding, lifted to touch his abdomen first, almost asking for permission before they began to trace the muscles until they stopped at the ring of iron.

Fawn traced the scarred flesh around the reactor and T—Stark shivered, but she wasn’t deterred. She grasped his sides and leaned in.

“Hey, what a—” he stopped as she pressed her ear to his new metal heart, humming with life and energy.

It seemed to skip a beat.

“It’s… it’s—” she closed her eyes and sighed before pulling away, eyes still on it. “It’s beautiful. That’s an incredible piece of work.”

“Thank you,” he managed to say, avoiding Yinsen’s little smirk. “Now, we’ve got a lot of work and I’ve managed to scrap something up with everything we’ve got to get us out of here.”

She frowned as Yinsen handed her various pieces of paper, each one with small parts of what seemed intricate pieces of—

“Wait a minute,” she let the papers come closer to the light and her breath was once stolen again as the full armor came to view. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit indeed,” Yinsen chuckled.

“You realize that if they catch us we’re fucked, right?” her eyes found his golden irises and he swallowed, nodding slowly. “Well, then—fuck, Stark, you may be a piece of shit but you’re a very smart piece of shit.”

“Thank you,” this time the smile was genuine, and his fingers snatched away the papers with a firm grip. “Now, I need to make sure you can _actually_ do something without getting an infection. Can you?”

“Probably,” she rolled her shoulders and hissed. “Yeah, it’s not that bad, I can handle it.”

“You sure, Quill?”

Despite the usage of her last name, she couldn’t help but look at Tony Stark and feel a great sense of camaderie. He was worried. He really was. Yinsen worried about everyone but Tony Stark only cared about himself.

Either she’d been wrong for most of her life or she was the first person he’d begun to care about in probably a long time. It made her feel uneasy and warm.

“I’m fine, Stark,” she shoved a little on his shoulder and resist the urge to run her fingers through the arc reactor again. Instead she let herself rest them on his shoulder for support, standing with sleepy legs. “Well, I might actually need a chair.”

“It killed you to say it, didn’t it?” he was laughing, the bastard.

“Just shut up,” she shoved him slightly and both men laughed a little.

Since she couldn’t be seen helping them, she began to set to work on small parts of the suit, following Stark’s directions. To be honest, most of it she could’ve done by herself just fine but it was better if she didn’t take any chances.

“Hey, Quill,” Stark called from the other side of the workshop and she looked up from the leg piece she’d been working on.

“Yeah?” she pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. It was beginning to reach her collarbones and she was dying for a haircut.

“What do they want from you?”

She paused, chewing her lower lip in thought. Looking down at her hands, she put the blowtorch away and ran a dirty towel through her sweaty face. The sweat on her back made the wounds sting but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. A sigh left her lips and she shook her head, pushing away the thoughts that fought to stay inside.

She couldn’t tell him.

She couldn’t tell any of them.

She couldn’t tell anyone at all.

“I’m sorry, Stark,” she grasped the blowtorch again and set to work. “But it’s none of your business.”

“None of my business?” he looked taken aback, almost offended.

“Stark—” Yinsen began but the billionaire pushed away from his work, making Fawn sigh.

“No, Yinsen, I think we deserve to know,” he looked at her—really looked at her, taking in her appearance, the way she moved and the look in her eyes. “You’re barely an adult.”

“I’m twenty-five, thank you very much,” she rolled her eyes.

“You didn’t steal plutonium,” he deadpanned and she just sighed again. And once more when he just kept talking. “You know something—or of someone. You know how to build something but if that was the only thing, they wouldn’t have tortured you. You—you _know something_.”

She tried to ignore him, keeping her hands moving and her mind away from his words but he slapped the tools away from her and grabbed her wrist. It wasn’t painful but it wasn’t gentle, either. Her eyes darkened.

“Let go,” she told him coldly.

“Why are they keeping you here?” he returned.

She snapped her eyes to his and his determination, his untrusting stare and his stubborn gaze finally did it.

“Okay, Stark, want to know why I’m here?” she shot him her fakest smile, showing him her pearly whites tinged with blood. He suppressed a wince. “I am the first human in the history of Earth to come in contact with alien technology and still be alive.”

And with a twist of her wrist, she was free from his grasp and she was back to working again.

He didn’t speak for the rest of the day.

 

 

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mysterymysterymystery.


	6. VI

Fawn was sleeping. Her back was turned to them, and her shirt had ridden up, showing the bloody bandages wrapped around her entire torso. Tony stared at her, scratching his growing beard with narrowed eyes.

“You know, it’s rude to stare,” Yinsen said off-handedly, startling Tony for a second. A quick smile took over his lips, though, and he reluctantly pulled his eyes away from the blonde. “Am I allowed to ask whether you harbor feelings for Fawn or would that be too personal?”

“I’m just curious,” he shrugged, going back to his table, where circuits awaited for his talented hands. “I mean, aren’t you?”

“Not really, no,” the doctor was wise, that Tony knew. But how someone could be so passive about the confirmation of alien life baffled him. “I’ve always known there was something out there. And, well, if we’re still alive, it must mean something, right?”

“I guess,” he leaned back on his chair, bringing his feet to the edge of the table and setting the circuit on his lap. Comfort was nice after working for so long. “My question is; why is she here?”

Yinsen blinked at him, “I was under the impression that she’s as much of a prisoner as you and I, Stark.”

“No, no, not that, we—we’re scientists, in a way,” he ran a hand through his greasy, unruly mop of dark hair, letting his eyes trail back to the sleeping figure. “We make our work public, and from what I’ve seen these last days, she’s… she’s _brilliant_ , utterly brilliant. How come she’s not—I don’t know, recognized by the world or at least Milwaukee or whatever?”

“She did say she was looking for her missing cousin,” Yinsen mentioned. “Maybe her goal wasn’t to patent her work or discover the mysteries of the world but find the one she cared about the most, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah,” he felt a familiar ache inside his chest, now paired with the humming of the arc reactor imbedded. “Yeah, I can relate to that. Or at least, my father could’ve.”

“Ah, yes, Howard Stark,” Yinsen took a big screwdriver from the table Tony was resting his feet upon. He could now see the doctor, and he was wearing a little knowing smile. “Incredible scientist, not a very good man, from what I’ve heard.”

“You’ve no idea,” he scoffed but it wasn’t the time to talk about his father since it was _never_ the time to talk about his father. “Well, at least she’s okay.”

“Yes, she cures quite rapidly,” Yinsen looked at her, finally, and let his eyes scan the hourglass shape of her body. “I hope she makes it out, if we don’t.”

“We will,” Tony reassured him, tightening his grip on the circuit table. “We will.”

* * *

“That’s impressive,” Fawn looked up from the device and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Is that for the suit?”

“Yeah,” she took a little squared box sitting on the table, wires scratching against the skin of her palm before she began to turn knobs and hold the button in the middle down.

Immediately, the wide cylinder began to float, albeit unstable. She watched it hover about three inches from the table when she grasped a piece of lead and placed it on top, satisfied as the cylinder didn’t lower the distance. When she looked up at him there was mirth in his eyes and almost pride.

“For the feet?” he suggested.

“For the feet,” she nodded, then lifted her thumb from the button, making the cylinder far with a heavy _thud_ on the wood. “It needs a lot more tinkering, though. And I mean _a lot_ if you want it to hold the weight of the entire suit.”

“It’s progress,” he slapped a hand over her shoulder and she gave out a cry of pain.

“Ah, fuck, sorry,” he winced, rubbing the back of his neck as her eyes watered. “Shit, I forgot.”

“It’s okay,” she wheezed, gasping for air and trying not to curl into a ball. “It’s just—a bit sensible, it’s all.”

“Do you need to lay d—?”

“No,” she interrupted fiercely, raising her hand and moving her chair closer to her worktable. “I’m fine.”

“Whatever you say,” he raised his hands in defeat and turned, glancing at the cameras to remind himself that he needed to be seen working more and talking less. “What about you, Yinsen?”

“I’m doing okay,” the doctor gave him an amused little smile.

“Great,” he slapped his hands together and grabbed the nearest chunk of metal. “Then let’s get to work.”

* * *

“Why do you make weapons?”

Tony looked up from the spongy, gray mush that they’d been given to eat, fork halfway to his mouth. Fawn hadn’t even tried to eat it, pushing it away and sitting cross-legged on the makeshift bed Yinsen had made when she’d arrived. She had thread and need in hand, trying to mend whatever was left of her plain, black t-shirt. Tony could actually see a logo in the middle but it was so faded he couldn’t see a thing.

“Huh?” was his answer.

Her cyan eyes set on his, stopping the graceful movements of her hands. She was swift, stealthy, almost. She was fast, efficient and had some sort of elegance on the way she walked. Tony had been around a lot of dancers throughout his life to recognize one and Fawn could dance. He wondered if she still did it.

“I mean,” a little sigh burst from her lips and she frowned, seemingly frustrated. “I don’t get why you make weapons. They’re bound to hurt people, so _kill_ people. Innocents. You can see that, can’t you?”

Tony let his fork fall on the bowl, straightening his back and feeling the strain of the arc reactor on his chest when he pushed his shoulders back. He could almost feel the shrapnel moving around and _god_ , did he hate that feeling.

“My father began the Stark Empire with weapons,” he explained and was surprised to see the curiosity and almost excitement in her eyes when he spoke. “I didn’t think, I just followed. I mean, Obie—Obadiah Stane, you know him?”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with him,” she nodded, resting her elbow on her knee and her chin on the heel of her hand. “He’s probably looking for you.”

“Yeah,” Tony swallowed, looking back to the bowl. “Well, he and I never questioned making weapons. It was—it was just that. Habit, why break it? We sell a lot and the military respects us more than they probably should. I never cared of what people thought about me, so I never paid attention to those who tried to change Stark Industries. But here and now I…” his throat was so goddamn dry he had to swallow again, and twice. “I see things differently.”

“I bet you do,” her lips curled upwards and he gave her a half-hearted smirk.

It was when he finished his dinner (or lunch or breakfast, who knew?) that she spoke again, and this time she was lying down, pulling a ratty blanket over her battered body.

“Hey, Tony?”

He froze, startled by the usage of his first name and what it really meant for Fawn to use it. He clumsily put his bowl away and turned to her, wincing as the marks on her back shone with the dim light of the cave.

“Yeah?” he whispered, because that seemed like the right thing to do.

“I’m glad I was wrong about you,” she muttered back.

He took a long time to digest her words, leaning back against one of the stronger tables in the makeshift workshop. Running a restless hand through his unruly hair, Tony Stark shut his eyes, threw his head and thought _you weren’t wrong, Fawn_.

* * *

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't really know how to put the drawing here, so I put it at the end.
> 
> Yay! Fawn drawing! I've got a lot, but of later (much later) chapters. I like this one, though.


	7. VII

“How long have you two been here?” Tony asked and Fawn looked up from the armored boots, where she’d been playing the high repulsors.

He was also working on the lower part of the armor with Yinsen, the both of them reinforcing and soldering the pieces together with fair ease. For some reason Fawn remembered the first time she grasped a solder.

“I—” she frowned. “I don’t know.”

“I know I’ve been here for more than half a year,” Yinsen replied. “Last time I saw my family was a long time ago, yet the days seem to blend together when there’s no light to guide us of the hour.”

“I’m kind of used to that,” she chuckled, shaking her head as she returned to her task. “I usually work until I can’t stand and my lab has no windows so the neighbors won’t see anything. So yeah, daylight? Overrated.”

“That makes two of us,” Tony sent her a little smirk. “What about you, Yinsen? Are you on the sparkly vampire science team?”

“I’m a doctor, Stark,” Yinsen laughed, anyway. “Like a normal person, I have to get out of the house, eat and sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Tony replied in a jokingly solemn voice.

“Sleep is for the weak,” Fawn returned with a deep, sore voice, exaggerated. It sounded so masculine that Tony just threw his head back and released a bark of laughter, almost harming himself as he wiped off a tear that fell from his eye.

“Jesus Christ,” his shoulders shook with laughter. “Batman just made my day.”

She just grinned but as soon as she looked away the familiar sound of the guards opening the doors made them three jump. She shoved the boots under her desk and Tony and Yinsen rushed to the front, where they raised their hands. Fawn followed hastily and froze when Raza came to view, looking around the cave after lingering his gaze on her for a moment.

She still had a black eye.

He stopped in front of Tony and let his dark, dark eyes roam the arc reactor, fingers tracing it softly. She saw the engineer keeping a straight face, almost hostile, and felt pride when she remembered how pale and scared he’d been when he’d arrived.

“Relax,” he said, then tapped the center of the arc reactor. “The bow and arrow, once was the pinnacle of weapons technology.”

He examined what Tony and Yinsen had built in order to cover the armor, and a look of disgust settled on his face. Fawn didn’t like that look one bit.

“It allowed the great Genghis Khan to rule from the Pacific to the Ukraine. An empire twice the size of Alexander the Great and four times the size of the Roman Empire,” she was used to his little speeches. He’d given one before he’d hit her so hard her mouth tasted of blood for three days, at least. “But today, whoever holds the latest Stark weapons rules these lands. And soon, it will be my turn.”

He spoke in Farsi and Fawn surprisingly understood. She’d been paying enough attention to Yinsen’s little talks, then.

“ _Why have you failed me_?” he was speaking to Tony, but the billionaire did not understand and she saw the flash of panic in his eyes.

“ _We’re working_ ,” Yinsen interrupted, trying to lighten the situation. “ _Diligently_.”

“ _I let you live, is this how you repay me_?” Raza glared at the doctor and Fawn felt a prickle of Fear hit the back of her spine. She could handle Raza physically, she’s done it too many times. But not Yinsen.

“ _It’s very complex. He’s trying very hard_ ,” was his reply and Fawn saw it before it even happened.

“ _On his knees_.”

The guards pushed Yinsen down so he was kneeling on the floor, and she shrieked a little, pushing down the urge to vomit.

“ _You think I’m a fool_?” Raza grasped a hot iron and she put herself in the middle without even thinking. “ _Move, woman, this is not your place._ ”

“ _Yinsen is telling the truth_ ,” she told him in Russian, which she knew was a mistake since he _hated it_ but it was all she knew that they would al understand. “ _They’re working, I can see them, it’s true_!”

A guard was about to grasp her when Raza slapped her out of the way, making her fall to the ground. Tony scrambled to help her up and she spat a mouthful of blood to the floor, watching Raza approach Yinsen with the hot iron.

“What does he want?” Tony asked, mouth dry and eyes wide.

“ _We’re both working_ ,” Yinsen looked terrified and she fought the urge to cry.

“ _You think I’m a fool_?” Raza repeated.

“What’s going on?” the billionaire turned to Fawn but her eyes were shut as she tried already to block her sense of smell. She hated when flesh burned, it was horrid.

“ _Tell me the truth_.”

“ _He’s building your Jericho!_ ” Yinsen cried out.

“ _Tell me the truth!_ ” when the doctor’s head was forced into an anvil Tony understood completely, almost staggering at the realization.

“ _He’s building your Jericho_!”

“What do you want? A delivery date? I need him,” Tony interrupted, and Raza looked from the poor man to them, to Tony and Fawn, the former with her wrist clasped on a tight grip. Either one of them was shaking or both of them were. “He’s a good assistant.”

There silence, a pregnant pause, and Fawn almost sobbed for a moment before Raza dropped the hot iron in front of Yinsen’s face but leaving him out of harm’s way. The sigh that left her was inhumanly relieved.

“You have ‘til tomorrow to assemble my missile,” were the last words out of Raza’s mouth before he was moving away from the cave and the door shut after the last guard.

As soon as the echo of the door faded, Fawn was lifting Yinsen from the anvil and dusting him off, mumbling apologies with half-choked sobs. She didn’t cry, though. She never truly cried away from the torture chamber.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t—” she pulled on a strand of hair, frustrated. “I should’ve spoken in Farsi, but I didn’t want to mess it up and—”

“It’s okay, Fawn, no one was harmed,” the good doctor put a hand on her shoulder and her lower lip trembled but she stopped it in time, masking her fear with utter determination.

“We have until tomorrow,” she stated the obvious, looking over her shoulder to see Tony nodding, serious. “Do we have enough time?”

“No, but it’ll do,” the engineer scratched the back of his head. “Alright, first of all we need a bomb.”

“What?” her eyes widened.

“For the door, to hold them off,” he grasped a small, almost rotten pencil from his dirty pocket and moved to the table, tracing quick lines.

“I know how to make a bomb, Stark,” she scoffed. “And probably a better one.”

“Oh yeah, Batman here knows her alien shit, fine,” he put the pencil in her hands and turned to Yinsen. “We need to finish the chest plate and the mask.”

“You do the mask, there’s barely anything else to do with the chest plate, I can handle it,” Yinsen dismissed with a wave of his hand but Fawn knew he was as nervous and restless as them.

“I also have to make some quick adjustments to the repulsors,” she rubbed her mouth, fighting the burn of frustration behind her eyes. “I-I… I don’t think I can do i—”

“Bullshit,” Tony spat at her and she almost jumped as he glared. “You can, and you will, and they’ll be damn perfect and by tomorrow night we’ll all be eating goddamn cheeseburgers and sleep in our own damn beds, okay?”

She closed her mouth, scanning his posture, measuring his moves and finally meeting his eyes. She hadn’t realized until now just how much they reminded her of melted gold. She could see kingdom crowns in them, promises in the shape or rings and necklaces and bracelets. She was an empire, almost as big as the one Howard Stark built after World War II but instead of screams of fear there were screams of joy.

Tightening her lips, Fawn nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo, excitement!


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay but there were sooo many exams, guys. Sorry! Real sorry!

“Oh, God,” Tony’s eyes widened and he turned to watch Fawn soldering the boots into the suit, the second to last thing that was left. He was finishing the front of the helmet when she had begun to sing and _Jesus Christ_ , he did not expect that. “Are you seriously singing Rupert Holmes?”

She ignored him, making Yinsen laugh.

“ _I knew her smile in an instant_ , _I knew the cuuurve of her face_ ,” she giggled. “ _It was my own lovely lady! And she said_ ,” Fawn turned to Tony and gave an overly exaggerated sultry pout. “ _Oh, it’s you_.”

“This is what I have to put up with,” he breathed.

“ _Then we laughed for a moment_ ,” the blonde stood, wrapping her arms tight around his own bicep and pulling. She wasn’t that short, but she was still shorter than Tony which wasn’t that impressive. “ _And I said; IIII never knew…_ ”

She stopped, lifting her eyebrows at him and he immediately shook his head.

“No.”

“Com’n, Stark, you know this song, everyone knows this song,” she turned to Yinsen. “Even you know this song, right, Yinsen?”

“Yes, I do,” the doctor nodded with the trademark smirk.

“See? Sing it, I know you want to.”

“No, that song is ridiculous,” he scoffed.

“ _IIII never knew…_ ,” she leaned her head further and Tony groaned, rubbing his face hard.

“ _That you like piña coladas_ ,” he mumbled, without really trying.

“ _And getting cold in the rain!_ ” she burst, going back to soldering the boots. “ _And the feel of the ocean and the taste of champagne! If you’d like making love at midnight…_ ”

He didn’t get her. Most of the time he did, obviously. At first she had been hostile, untrusting and hey, that was okay, they _were_ captive in the middle of nowhere without proper food or bedding and he could understand that. But the instant she’d changed her mind about him it was like they’d been friends from the beginning. It was slightly unsettling.

Plus, she hummed and sang and whole fucking lot.

There was nothing wrong with that, of course, but the moment she began she wouldn’t stop. He’d had to listen to her sing Cherry Bomb, Go All the Way and Hooked on a Feelin’ before he’d realized that she hadn’t been kidding about the mixtape Bakaar had.

Sentimental value, huh?

“Okay, I’m done,” Fawn straightened her back and stretched a little. “All we have left is the helmet.”

“Alright, good job, well done, you get a golden star, blah blah blah,” Tony ran the back of his hand through his forehead, trying to keep the sweat away from his eyes. “Place the bomb.”

Fawn paused. Hesitated, and he turned to see her biting her lip, an almost mischievous—no, no, that look definitely screamed trouble. He frowned but a smile made its way to his lips. Yinsen looked up from the bomb, where he was making sure nothing would malfunction.

“I—” she bit her lower lip harder, seemingly containing giggles. “I made something.”

“Oh, dear God,” Yinsen muttered.

“O… kay?” Tony lifted an eyebrow at her. “What did you do?”

“A distraction.”

Fawn moved from the hidden suit to the workshop, where she lifted something that honestly looked like a Roomba.

“A vacuum?” Tony scoffed.

“It’s not a vacuum, idiot,” she rolled her eyes. “You’ll know soon enough. But it’ll give us enough time to get you into the suit and load the program to get the hell out of here.”

“How is that thing gonna buy us time?” he pointed at it with the solder and she clutched it against her chest. If she hadn’t had multiple wounds on her face and a fading black eye, he’d have laughed.

“Be careful with Boogy,” she chided.

“You named that thing Boogy?” the bubble of laughter that rolled out of his tongue was enough to make Yinsen follow.

“Make sure the suit’s hidden,” she narrowed her eyes at him and passed Yinsen with a smile, banging on the front doors with a tight fist. Tony barely had time before the door was open and Raza was glaring at her.

“Вы закончили свою ракету?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the device pressed against her chest.

“Нет, но я закончил свою работу,” she placed it in his hands and Raza frowned deeper.

“Как это поможет нам найти зимнюю солдата?” he didn’t look very sure and she rolled her eyes, as if it was obvious. She could feel Tony’s and Yinsen’s gaze on her.

“Он знает меня. Моя музыка. Положите на микстейп, и это будет мешать радиосигнала его адамантия руку,” she took a step back. “We’ll have your missile by the end of the day.”

“You’ve got one hour,” he said right before shutting the door on her face.

Tony cursed, Yinsen rubbed the bridge of his nose and she immediately stumbled into action.

“Come on, we need to work fast,” she slapped a hand on Yinsen’s shoulder. “Help me install the bomb now. Stark, put yourself in the suit.”

“Sure thing, Lovely Lady,” he snickered and she couldn’t help the laugh that burst nervously out of her.

Her heart hammered inside her chest.

The hour had come and gone but she was sure it hadn’t even passed. Her assumption was confirmed when a familiar song drifted through the cave, too loud and too catchy for Tony to ignore it.

“Quill,” the billionaire began with suppressed laughter as she danced around the suit, helping Yinsen set it up. “Please, tell me that’s not Redbone.”

“Pretty much,” she grinned.

“I am not leaving this place with Come and Get Your Love,” he snapped and she was about to snap back at him when the bangs on the front door began. “Shit, I don’tknow Hungarian.”

“I—” Yinsen was sweating, and she put a reassuring hand over his. “I… I don’t…”

“Then speak Hungarian,” Tony pressed.

The doctor moved to the door, foreign words to Fawn spilling out with hesitance. She turned to Tony, finding his nervous gaze on her.

She took a moment to admire him, to sweep her eyes over everything they’d done. It was surreal, the suit. A bit piece of junk that she doubted could get them anywhere. But he seemed sure of their plan, of _his_ plan, so she took a deep breath and knocked on the chest place to gather his full attention.

“You know, a few weeks ago I probably would've thought myself crazy for doing this,” her smile was honest, though, and he seemed pleased about it, letting his exhaustion show for just a moment, along with everything that she thought she'd never see in a man like Tony Stark. “But then again, a few weeks ago I wasn't captive in a cave in the middle of Afghanistan, so don't get too cocky, Stark.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, Quill,” was his ragged answer before the explosion took place and the floor shook with the force of it. Yinsen was quickly scrambling to the computer as Fawn reassured every piece of the suit. “How’d that work?”

“Oh, my Goodness,” there was an evident tremor in his tone, so Fawn pushed back the tickle of fear and put up her brave, grown up girl mask like she’d done fifteen years ago in a hospital in Colorado. “It worked alright.”

“That’s what I do,” he replied smugly.

“That was my bomb, you little shit,” she gave his knee a tug and looked at Yinsen with urgency. “Yinsen, you have to initialize the power sequence.”

“I’m on it,” the sound of typing filled the room but soon there were shouts and mayhem approaching the gaping hole where the doors used to be. “Okay. Tell me.”

“Function 11. Tell me when you see a progress bar. It should be up right now. Talk to me. Tell me when you see it.”

“I have it.”

Fawn moved out of their way to her workshop, where she grasped one of the little boxes Tony had always seen her fiddling with. This one had a big, red button though, and as soon as she pressed it the music stopped and the gunshots were deafening.

“They’re coming,” Yinsen muttered.

“Make sure the checkpoints are clear before you follow me, okay?” Tony’s voice was authorative but it had an edge that she’d heard in her own voice too many times to count in one hand. Or in both. “Okay, Fawn?”

“Okay,” she nodded.

Then she saw it, she saw Yinsen’s eyes on the computer screen, where a 50% was plastered in what she knew was a moment of epiphany. She was the determination, the resignation, and almost a peaceful look flash over his eyes before he had made his decision.

“We need more time,” he stated.

“Yinsen—” Fawn began, but he cut her off.

“I’ll buy you both more time,” the doctor then ran to the door and Fawn was paralyzed to the bone when he picked the gun and began to shoot.

“Stick to the plan! Stick to the plan!” Tony was yelling. “Quill, what are you doing? Quill! Fawn!”

There was nothing in the world she could’ve done. She knew it. She had seen it before, that faced, the kind of fear she felt, the quivering of her body when Yinsen disappeared. It had been so long ago, too long ago and when she closed her eyes there was a small boy with too many regrets for being just eight years old.

_“Peter!” she screamed after him, her tiny fingers brushing the backpack her wore._

_“Mom! Mom!” he shouted back._

_“Peter!”_

_“Mom!”_

_“PETER!”_

The power went out. And Fawn, once again, was swallowed by darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watched Guardians of the Galaxy again, last night with my dad. I forgot how much I love the dynamic between them five. Rocket and Gamora kick ass, seriously.
> 
> And Peter. PETER'S MY BABY BOY.


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update 'cause I owe you, guys.

_“Come on, Fawn, dance!” he laughed, throwing his arms down around her tiny little waist and spinning around. “You know this song! Mom says she’ll put it on the next tape!”_

_“I like this song!” a small, naïve blonde jumped with all the energy of a five year old. “You do the boy I do the girl!”_

_“But we need a dance for it,” Peter never stopped flailing around, moving his hips like he’d seen his mother do a thousand times before she got sick. He thought hard of a move just as the chorus was about to begin. “Okay, let’s do this!”_

“Cause baby there ain’t no mountain high enough!” _the cassette played and Peter swung his hips to the side, his fingers snapping against one of them._ “Ain’t no valley low enough!”

“ _Like this?” she copied him and he laughed._

“Ain’t no river wide enough!”

“ _Yeah! Fawn, do it again!”_

“To keep me from getting to you.”

Gunshots rang in her ears and Fawn screamed with everything she had. Doubled over, covering her ears, standing behind the big bulk that was the iron suit Tony Stark was controlling. She screamed, tears streaming endlessly down her face and tried to push away every fear and every ghost that hunted her from the past, from the beginning, and from the future that could not come if she let them win.

The suit was effective and when she looked up she saw that it was facing her.

“MOVE!” Tony screamed, and she scrambled to follow him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you but either you snap out of it or you die, Quill. Game over.”

“S-sorry,” she stuttered.

For the first time in God knows how long, Tony and Fawn left the cave, passing the corpses and unconscious men lying around the walls. They detected Yinsen, lying in a pile of explosives and her eyes widened.

“Yinsen!” they both called.

“Watch out!” he called back.

It’s a rocket, what Raza launched. And Tony pushed Fawn out of the way before he dodged, firing back. She heard the scream as the roof collapsed over her worst nightmare and immediately both her and Tony were leaning over Yinsen, who seemed to have trouble breathing.

“Stark,” he wheezed. “Fawn.”

“Come on. We got to go. Move for me, come on—”

“Tony—”

“We got a plan. We're gonna stick to it,” the billionaire snapped back at the blonde, who watched him with sad eyes.

“This was always the plan, Stark,” the doctor replied.

“Come on, you’re gonna go see your family,” desperation was always ugly in anyone’s voice, but Fawn hated it on Tony’s tongue. “Get up.”

“My family is dead. I’m going to see them now,” his eyes turned to see Fawn, too, and she suppressed the urge to cry. “It’s okay. I want this. I… I want this…”

“Thank you,” Tony’s voice shook. “For saving me.”

“Don’t waste your life,” was all he could come back with.

“Thank you, Yinsen,” she muttered, placing a hand over his heart where she felt it stutter. “For everything.”

“You’ll find him, Fawn,” he smiled, painfully but it was a smile nonetheless and she was glad he’d finally be at peace. “I know you will find Peter.”

“I will,” she sobbed.

Then they met silence.

Tony put his helmet back on, anger radiating off him.

“You knew this would happen,” he accused.

“Please, don’t do it right now,” she wrapped her arms around herself. “Not now.”

“Yeah, fine,” he scoffed. “Don’t come out unless I tell you it’s clear, yeah?”

“Okay,” she said softly.

Tony Stark hesitated for a moment, seemingly fighting over something in his head before he shook it and walked the monstrosity of machinery towards the entrance of the cave. Fawn took the time to turn around and, very lowly, whistle.

The round machine resembling a Roomba flew to where she was, hovering three inches or maybe four from the ground. She grasped the edge and pulled it up, looking on the back of it to find with satisfaction all of her personal items that were made of metal. Her phone was there, along with the keys to her lab and trailer and most important of all, her Walkman. Awesome Mix Vol. 1 (from Peter to Fawn) was settled inside the cassette player she’d installed. She pocketed the objects and threw Boogy down to the floor carelessly.

Wiping the blood she’d caught when she grasped the machine, she lifted a booted foot and stomped on its weak point, breaking it easily. Its energy ceased and Fawn turned to the entrance, trying to fight off fear again.

“Quill!” she heard faintly and she realized Tony’s suit was on one knee. “Hold onto my back!”

She narrowed her eyes and pumped her legs for a run, turning into a sprint when he activated the launchers on the sides of his boots. When she jumped, she fell on his back with a heavy thud and grasped the handles on back of his shoulders, designed for a quick escape. As soon as she groaned he pressed a button and her repulsors activated.

The flight was short, fast, uncontrolled. She screamed at the feeling because _God_ , she was never riding a Roller Coaster in her life ever again.

Then the power ran out.

“Fuck no,” she muttered.

And their descent was brutal. On the landing to the sand, the armor disassembled and Tony emitted a sharp cry. Fawn saw white behind her eyes, landing on her shoulder and hitting her head.

But they were out.

They lied there for a minute before Tony took off his helmet and breathed in, eyes wide, turning to Fawn with a little smile.

“Not bad,” he chuckled.

And then she laughed.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you only knew how much real information this chapter has.

Nick Fury looked up from his desk, drawing a blank look across his features when he saw a familiar blonde—albeit a bit disheveled—speed walking towards him. Agent Valdés looked startled in front of him, mouth hanging open as the young woman pointed her finger right at the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., whilst Agent Barton seemed amused.

“ _You_ ,” she seethed.

“How did you get access to this section of the building?” the Agent was already standing with a glare, hand moving to the Taser on her hip. “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but you need to leave.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Fawn Quill spat, startling Agent Valdés and leaving her speechless. Then she turned to Fury, slamming her hands on his desk. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know,” was his dry reply.

“Bullshit!” she shouted, then snapped her head to the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent holding her arm harshly. “If you don’t quit touching me I swear I’ll shove your hand so far up your ass you’ll feel it on the back of your throat.”

Agent Barton released a choked up sound that was a poorly hidden laugh, and Agent Valdés glared at him, complete professionalism taking over. Fury rubbed his temple, trying to will his patience to come out. Just as Fawn pivoted on her feet to face Agent Valdés and Barton narrowed his eyes, Fury stood and all three people froze.

“I’d like to have a quiet word with Ms. Quill,” he looked pointedly at his Agents with his healthy eye and Agent Valdés sent one last glare at Fawn before turning to the door and walking briskly away, Barton teasing her on the way right behind her. The door slamming closed let Fury sink on his seat, pointing at one of the empty chairs. “Sit.”

“Oh, no, I’m not sitting,” she tightened her hands into fists and leaned over the desk. “I don’t want to sit. I want to know where my _entire life-time of investigation is_.”

“I don’t know,” he repeated.

“Years-worth of research has suddenly, all of a sudden, magically, _tragically_ , disappeared from my goddamn laboratory in the _middle of the fucking Pacific Ocean_ ,” she was screaming, her cheeks tinting redder and redder the louder she spoke. “And you expect me to just _assume this isn’t fucking S.H.I.E.L.D.’s work!?_ ”

Nicholas Fury let his chin rest on the heel of his hand, gazing up at the blonde in front of him. She was a spitfire and one of the most brilliant minds he had ever encountered in his life with the exception of Howard Stark and his son.

Who in their right mind would kidnap Fawn Quill and Anthony Stark and put them in the same room? No one smart, that was for sure.

“Ms. Quill,” he began, and his tone was one similar to an adult speaking to a child, which only made her sigh—a sign that she was quickly losing her patience. “You have to understand me. I’m the Director of the highest national security organization, and when I have scientists around the country w—”

“I was in International Waters!” she threw her hands up, her eyes widening.

“Who refuse to answer the damn door,” he continued, his tone harsher. “And who deny having highly advanced alien technology in their hands when they _clearly do_ , then it becomes of great importance. At least to me.”

“You’ve got no right to take everything away from me,” she spat at him.

“No, I’ve got no right,” he stood, and even though she was a good head and a half shorter than him she was still glaring. “But I’ve got the law on my side, Quill, unlike you. All you’ve got is half a doctorate in physics and your name on the news along with Tony motherfucking Stark’s.”

She was shaking, livid, face red and eyes crazed and fists quaking on her sides.

Fury wished he didn’t feel so much pity for her.

“Look, Quill,” he sighed, trying to put a hand on her shoulder but she slapped it far harsher than he thought she would. He let it fall to his side again. “You’re young, you can do great things. You suffered a traumatic experience that would’ve put everyone on edge and tinkering with all that alien shit won’t do you any bet—”

“Oh, no, I’m not falling for that,” she shook her head, a cynic smirk plastered on her lips. “I’m not going to give up, Fury, and you know why?”

He fell on his seat, rubbing his face. He hated confrontation with Fawn—she was so young, so shattered. He could handle an unstable gamma expert with a knack for boxing in his underpants when he got angry, he could handle an spoiled billionaire with daddy issues and he could handle a deaf, circus freak with a medieval fetish. Fawn Quill? Nope. Not at all. Leave that to Coulson.

“Please, enlighten me,” he scoffed, and when he looked up he found an angry twenty-one year old with the determination of an army leader.

“Because unlike you, unlike S.H.I.E.L.D., when I get a call for help, I fucking _help_ ,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “You’ve made an enemy in me, Director Fury, and I promise you that one way or another, I will find my cousin and I will shut this place down. And _that_ , I swear on my aunt’s grave.”

With that, she turned her back to him and slammed the door much harder than Agent Valdés had done before. It wasn’t even five minutes until the door opened again and Agent Coulson walked cautiously and elegantly towards the desk. Fury groaned when he looked up and Coulson shook his head.

“Ms. Potts put us on hold,” he said.

“I need a fucking drink,” he replied.

“I just saw Ms. Quill leaving, quite angered,” the Agent sat and Fury just groaned again. “I take it she wasn’t fond of what she found in her laboratory.”

“More like what she _didn’t_ find,” he snorted. “She’s smart, but not dangerous. She’s a little girl who needs a new hobby and it _can’t include Tony motherfucking Stark_ , you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the Agent nodded.

“Now,” he sighed. “Has there been anything on Dr. Brown?”

“Nothing, sir,” Agent Coulson fished out his cellphone and checked everything there was to check. “There hasn’t been any leads, which points to either the spaceship worked or it didn’t work. The signal stopped before she reached Saturn, though, which points to interference from her side. We’re doing all we can do get it back but since we don’t own such technology, then we can’t reach her, sir.”

“Goddamnit,” the Director groaned louder this time and Coulson sighed. “This is why I don’t want young Agents, Coulson—they get too damn sentimental over everything. I already have to deal with my best psychiatrist riding off to the sunset with Quill’s motherfucking spaceship to deal with Quill herself _and_ Stark dropping out of the Weapon’s Industry. Has no one got a bad bone in them?”

“I believe you make the right choices, sir, whether they turn out alright or not,” was all he could say.

“You only say that because I hired you at twenty,” he pointed his finger at him and a little smirk crept its way into the level 9 Agent’s face.

“That is confident, sir,” he mocked.

“Just keep an eye on Quill,” he waved his hand and dismissal and the Agent quickly moved towards the door. “And for God’s sake, don’t let her contact Tony Stark!”

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Barton. Bird Brain's got my approval.


	11. XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm half asleep and ready to lay down but fuck, I need to study. Instead, I'm writing. Genius.

Tony Stark frowned and looked away from the blueprints displayed around him in utter holographic brilliance, his body slowing to a stop before he cocked an eyebrow at the British voice that drifted through the speakers of his lab.

“I beg your pardon, Jarvis?” he questioned, a smirk already forming.

“Miss Quill is awaiting for you on the entrance, sir,” the Artificial Intelligence repeated dutifully. “Miss Potts is already attending her, too.”

“Oh, no, not those two,” he groaned. “Pepper’s already mad at me for the stock drop and I bet Fawn’s here just to annoy me.”

“I believe they’re arguing.”

Tony froze, the blueprints of the new arc reactor he was designing folding and dropping and fading. The billionaire didn’t even think before moving upstairs and rushing to the entrance, where Fawn had her arms crossed and was blatantly glaring at Pepper with pursed lips. Pepper… well, she wasn’t a pretty sight either. Neither were her words.

“—and then you show up like a ghost, you think he’s going to like that? You’re just a reminder of what happened in that cave and a little girl like you has no right to—”

“Look, Pepper—can I call you Pepper?” she asked cynically, and Tony bit his lip in worry. This would definitely get _ugly_ and he should intervene. “I’ve been kidnapped, tortured, shoved around a hospital, been stolen by a national security organization and dismissed like I’m nothing but dirt under their fingernails. So if you want to stop me from talking to the only person in this goddamn building that will understand me when I speak I suggest you think about it because I _will_ crush you six feet under with the sole of my three sizes too big military boot. Do you understand me or do I have to speak like a bleached, pea-sized brain secretary?”

Oh, yes, he should intervene.

“Fawn! My favorite captive buddy!” he burst, and Pepper was completely furious as her gaze followed the young woman, who took a duffel bag from the floor and shoved at his chest harshly. “Hey, what was that for?”

“Your assistant gets on my nerves, you hired her, so the blame’s to you,” he could see the already pent up frustration and he remembered that she said she’d been stolen. “So I need your help because it seems that everyone’s against me doing something productive unlike every scientist in this country.”

His eyebrows shot up and he looked her over. She was a disaster, with dirty, matted hair and red eyes and bags under them and dirty clothes and holy shit, was that blood? Didn’t she say she went to the hospital?

“You need help,” he blurted before he could even process the thought.

“What I need is a goddamn drink,” she pushed past him down the stairs.

“Hey, you can’t—” Pepper was cut off by Tony, who sent her the most meaningful look he’d ever given her.

She watched him frown at her, almost pleadingly, with worried honey eyes. She paused, glanced at the young blonde descending the stairs and wondered, not for the first time, just what the hell happened in that cave in Afghanistan.

* * *

“Okay,” Tony leaned back against the couch positioned on the lab, where Fawn was drinking his bottle of scotch like it was water. “I’m gonna ask a few things and you’re gonna answer them, alright?”

He wasn’t slurring. Was he slurring? Maybe he was. Yeah. He was.

“Whatever,” she chuckled into the neck of the bottle, shutting her eyes to laugh a bit more, breathing in sharply. She rested her head against the backrest of the couch, too, before humming and nodding.

“But, like, promise to be honest,” he turned his head to her and found her nodding tiredly. She looked too young.

“Okay,” she whispered, and it sounded too fragile.

“First, why are you here?” he took the bottle back to his lips and the alcohol burned pleasantly. He loved how it felt. Always had.

“Because my lab’s in ruins, I don’t have anything but that stupid duffel bag and my Walkman and mixtape and you’re the only person in the world who I actually think of as a friend. Or at least someone who doesn’t want to kill me or get information from me about a stupid Russian experiment or alien technology.”

“That was complete,” he mumbled, passing her the remaining contents of the bottle but she didn’t drink it. “Okay, next, uh, why did you and Pepper almost have a catfight? You should’ve gotten closer to a puddle of mud.”

“She was talking about you as if you were a kid,” she snapped, surprising him. “You’re anything but, fucking thirty-nine year old, not nine.”

“Right, next?” he offered and she nodded again. “Why did you lie about your age?”

She groaned. “Of course you’d search about me.”

“I’m Tony Stark, I thought we had had established,” he snarked.

“I don’t even know who Tony Stark is,” she muttered, making his smirk drop.

“Well, I’m pretty much everywhere in the news since we came back,” he tried to salvage but she was shaking her head, covering her teeth with her lips and biting on them. She looked about to cry.

“I’ve got no one, Tony.”

He heard the sob that was threatening to spill out from her and panic rose in his throat. He didn’t do well with crying women, especially young girls like Fawn. She was twenty-one (not really a surprise when he’d found out) and all her life’s work had been stolen, apparently. Hell, he’d cry, too if he were in that position.

Well, maybe.

Not really but poor Fawn, right?

“Well, what about your family in Malwaukee?” he tried.

“Colorado,” she corrected and he frowned. She lied about that, too? “And they’re dead.”

“All of them?” he pressed.

“My dad was murdered when I was sixteen,” she took a last swig of the bottle. “My mom left when I was four. My cousin and I were kidnapped by fucking aliens when I was six and he was eight, and they threw me out like a piece of garbage because they only wanted him. When I turned eighteen, my grandfather turned his back on me, deeming me a lost cause, and then I was on my own. But fuck them, who needs family?”

 _Everyone does_ , he thought, _even I did. Even I needed my father_.

“You know what?” he reached over and took the bottle, moving to leave it on the floor. Dummy whirred from his place, moving to take it with his robotic claw. “We’re going to get drunk.”

“Drunker?” she seemed hopeful.

“Yeah, thank whoever sick fuck is up there that you’re twenty-one and not twenty so I won’t get sued but yes, drunker, much drunker, and,” he pulled out the holograms for his new arc reactor. “We’re going to do science.”

“Woo!” she laughed, stumbling slightly and leaning against him with a laugh. “Drunk science!”

“But first!” he turned around and wrinkled his nose. “You need a shower ASAP.”

“Fuck you, Stark,” she dug her index on his arc reactor, turned hazy-eyed and then wrapped her arms around his torso to let her ear rest against it. “You’re the best.”

“You just _had_ to be so young,” he groaned.


	12. XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleep? What's sleep? It's fuckin 12 here and I have to study but godddd, Art History can wait, right?
> 
> Right?

“You didn’t sleep with her,” was the first thing that came out of Pepper’s mouth when she found Tony working on his lab at seven in the morning, the girl resting on the couch with a knitted blanket over her.

“No, as surprising as it is to you, I didn’t,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. He was still a bit drunk and the hangover hadn’t settled into his bones, which granted him about an hour and a half of work. “Prepare a room for her, won’t you? And please, buy her some clothes, she’s got about nothing in that duffel bag, I’m sure. Knowing her, it’s a bunch of tools and a few mixtapes.”

When he got no answer in return, Tony turned to his assistant and found her eyes on Fawn, the brown of them curious and slightly stunned.

“Yes, she’s real, you’re not dreaming,” he began dryly, but Pepper shook her head.

“She’s just a kid,” her eyes were hard, and now on him. “Where are her parents? Her family? Hasn’t she got anyone to mooch off from?”

“No,” this time he stiffened, releasing a protective side of him that he never thought he had until Fawn had fainted in the heat of the Afghan desert and he’d pegged her for a dead girl with infection and dehydration. “She’s got no one, Ms. Potts, and even if you were personally offended by her which, you know, would be _extremely unprofessional_ ,” she looked uncomfortable under his gaze. “Then you would still have to prepare her a room. Because she’s staying.”

After a beat of silence, his words sunk in and he shut his eyes. Fuck, he was too drunk and too tired but he _needed_ to finish his arc reactor. He couldn’t wait to get the old thing away from his chest, from his life.

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” was Pepper’s small reply before she hurried upstairs.

He groaned, slamming his head down on the pristine worktable.

“You know, the Tony Stark I’d heard of was much smoother with women,” Fawn croaked from the couch.

“You,” he pointed at her without looking. “are the reason why she’s so pissed at me so do me a favor and shut up and let me think.”

“You’re not thinking,” he heard her stand up and wobble over to him, poking the back of his head. “You’re celebrating a little self-pity-party inside your head. I can see it, balloons and all. My, you’re a great interior designer.”

“Stop it, you brat,” he whined.

“Oh, yes, I’m the little brat,” she laughed. “Come on, let’s grab some Advil and finish the new arc reactor before you fall asleep.”

“I’ll let you know I’ve managed to stay awake for five days,” he finally met her gaze and regretted it, finding her staring at him with amusement. “Did you say Advil?”

“I know how to cook,” she offered.

“Did you steal my blueprints or corrupt Jarvis or something?” he questioned, lifting his head from the table. “Because you’re being too nice, y’know.”

“My system is completely fine, sir,” Jarvis’ voice echoed through the room, and she jumped, eyes widening and hands raising to fists. “I’m sorry for startling you, Ms. Quill, I probably should’ve introduced myself the previous night.”

“How rude of you,” Tony falsely chided his AI, then turned to the slowly relaxing young adult. “Jarvis, Fawn, Fawn, my Artificial Intelligence that runs the entirety of my mansion.”

“And soon the whole world,” he added, making Fawn’s eyes widen even more. “I was merely adding humor to amuse sir, Ms. Quill, I am very sorry if I frightened you.”

“No, it’s okay,” she breathed out. “Sorry, last time I tried to make an AI, he tried to kill me in my sleep.”

“Really?” Tony frowned.

“No, but I have watched enough sci-fi movies to understand making an AI is a mistake,” she deadpanned, grabbing the front of his dirty wife-beater and dragging him upstairs. “Come on, Stark, I’m dying for a real meal.”

But her thumb was rubbing the underside of his arc reactor, where skin met metal, and if he felt it hum with life at one of the people who had saved him from a painful, shrapnel-filled death then, well, could you blame him?

* * *

She was singing again. This time she was cooking _and_ singing, and although she had showered the night before and was wearing old sweatpants of his and one of his MIT hoodies, he found the sigh more reassuring than anything. He didn’t feel on edge, like most of the time he’d been whenever Fawn was on sight. It probably had to do with the fact that they were back on the States.

“ _When you hold me in your arms so tight_ ,” she sang, moving the oil on the pan to cook the eggs right. “ _Everything’s alright. IIIIIIIIII’m—hooked on a feeling! Dun, duh-ruh, duh! I’m high on be-lieving! Dun, duh-ruh, duh… that you’re already in love with me!_ ”

“How many songs are in that mixtape of yours?” he asked, and she turned to him with a little curious frown. The headphones were around her neck, and the Walkman was attacked to the pocket of the grey sweatpants.

“A few,” she responded, moving the eggs to his plate, where there was crisp bacon already. She served herself, too, and turned off the vitro, leaving the pan on the sink and sitting in front of him.

“Why does it have sentimental value?”

“Why do you hide yourself in women, booze and parties when you obviously hate them?” she retorted and he just _had_ to smirk.

“You’re great, did I tell you you’re great?”

“No,” she smirked back, chewing on her eggs and bacon. “But you can tell me as much as you’d like, I don’t mind the praise.”

“Well, you’re great,” he repeated, then paused. “Kiddo.”

Her fingers crisped.

Oh, yes, Fawn was great.


	13. XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1:41am here.

“You’re staring.”

“Am I? I’m sorry, your abs are distracting me from the gaping hole in the middle of your chest.”

“You’re not that funny, you know.”

“I’m hilarious, that’s why you keep me around.”

“I keep you around because you’ve got small hands.”

“I can’t read the copper wire yet, Tony, I—oh my god, that’s disgusting.”

“It’s not pus.”

“I know it’s not pus, you dipshit, it’s an inorganic plasmic discharge but it’s still disgust—okay, I got it, I’m pulling out.”

“Hmm, yes, talk dirty to me.”

“That’s even more disgusting.”

“As long as you—fuck.”

“What did I do, what did I do?!”

“You pulled out too fast, I’m going into—”

“You’re going into fucking cardiac arrest!”

“Oh, really? I didn’t fucking notice.”

“Stop laughing and let me put the damn thing inside you a—don’t! For fuck’s sake, Tony, you’re thirty-nine, not fourteen!”

“Okay, okay.”

“Well, let me just—there.”

She pulled her hand from the hole and Tony watched her blues with his golden orbs, amusement dancing in them.

“Was that so hard? That was fun, right?”

“I am so glad that’s over,” she sighed, letting her forehead rest against his shoulder. He patted the back of it awkwardly, still laughing to himself in relief. “Fuck you, Tony Stark, fuck you and your stupid ideas.”

“But look at it, it’s so pretty,” he teased, wiggling his shoulders to show off his brand new arc rector.

Fawn looked away from her hands, where she was using a clean towel to get rid of the (ew, ew, ew, _ew_ ) sticky substance the reactor had left. Tony noticed her eyes softening when she finally laid her eyes on the device, as always. A tiny smile made its way to her lips and for some reason he found himself smiling back, letting his muscles relax as her small, thin finger traced the scarring around the arc reactor.

“It looks like it’ll last,” she finally breathed out, turning to the old one. “What do you want me to do with this?”

“That?” he shrugged, looking around for his shirt and grinning when she handed it back without even looking. “Destroy it. Incinerate it.”

She frowned.

“Really? I thought you’d want to keep it,” she frowned, looking at it with what he found was a caring and nostalgic tone.

“Oh, great,” he rolled his eyes. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What?” she asked defensively.

“That thing where you turn all sappy,” he made a flourish with his hand. “Like when you talk about past times and remember the good ol’ days—what are you, fifty? Get rid of that thing, it’s useless and I don’t want junk to pile up like, like that picture of my dad and I on my desk,” he turned to Dummy and the robot whirred. “Yeah, Butterfingers, why don’t you get rid of that, too?”

As Tony settled into his zone, Fawn moved upstairs, looking at the arc reactor with a melancholic gaze. She was nostalgic, yeah, it was in her blood. She’d always loved old songs, sad movies and flashbacks and maybe she spent too much time with her thoughts alone, but she really didn’t want to get rid of the arc reactor.

“Is that it?”

She was startled by Pepper Potts’ silent appearance, but her hand was extended to her and Fawn looked at the device one more time, ran her thumb through it and thought back to the first time she’d seen it on Tony’s chest. Then, reluctantly, she put it on the assistant’s hand.

“Thanks,” she replied.

“Just make sure he eats,” Pepper said before disappearing down the hallway.

* * *

“You’re disappointed,” she said after the ten minute silence.

Tony looked away from the road for a second, letting his eyes sweep over her now familiar figure. The young adult was sporting decent clothing by now—skinny jeans and a black shirt with the latest Daft Punk album plastered in the middle. She hadn’t fought Tony over the clothing issue, or how he had prepared a room for her, which made things easier but not better—if that made any sense.

She was more present in his life, though, and that was unsettling and nice at the same time. If that could be.

For example now, when her icy blues were trained on him and he’d just been dismissed by who he had called best friend multiple times in his life.

“It was your presence, he wanted to seem professional,” he dismissed, shrugging.

“He didn’t take you seriously, and you’re angry because you think he was only your friend when the US military was receiving your weapons. You’re angry because the moment you turn a little bit human, all the people that surround you think you’ve gone mad and you need help. And you’re frustrated because you want to do the right thing and yet no one’s helping you but me.”

“Oh, so now you can read people, uh?” it came out far harsher than he’d intended but Fawn didn’t seem offended, just kept watching him with the same knowing expression.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I met someone who was very hard to read. He was fucked up on so many levels that sometimes I knew he just wasn’t feeling anything. But even then, I knew what he was thinking.”

“Where is he now?” he frowned, trying to recall a time when she’d spoken about any friends. She _had_ to have friends at some point in her life, right?

“Dead, probably,” she shrugged. “Or maybe back where he came from. I never really knew.”

“When did you meet him?” it wasn’t often that Fawn talked about herself. Last time had been a week prior, when drunk in his lab.

“I don’t remember,” he knew it was a lie. And she knew he knew, but didn’t do anything to correct it. Neither did he. “I was little. He scared me at first but he’d always keep me safe one way or another. He was sad all the time, I didn’t know why.”

“Do you know why now?”

“I don’t know for sure,” she sighed, and her eyes moved with the speed of the car. She looked too young, as always. She reminded him of himself in MIT. “But I guess it was because he was lost, like most of us, but especially him.”

There was a silence that Tony didn’t dare break because he knew she would. It was a pregnant pause, something that was about to be unleashed.

“I think I was in love with him,” she muttered.

He wasn’t really surprised. The way she spoke about him lead onto something and for a moment he thought of Pepper and how strange he’d felt when he’d seen her red, tired eyes as soon as he landed. He quickly shook the thoughts away—she was Pepper, his assistant, not some bimbo he could take to bed.

“You were?” he asked in the same tone she had used, not really knowing why he was using it but it seemed appropriate enough.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged half-heartedly. “I was just sixteen when I last saw him. He’d done me a favor and had no reason to come back, I guess.”

“Did he owe you or something?” Tony questioned.

“No,” she replied lightly, tracing her thumb through her lower lip. “No, he didn’t. I did. Still do. I hope he’s alive so I can pay him back.”

“Why would he be dead?”

As soon as it left his lips he knew he’d made a mistake—she closed off and sent him an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, guessed so,” Tony sighed.

“I’d say I’m sorry—”

“But you’re not,” he finished, making her smile a bit. “You know, one day I’ll decipher all your secrets and you won’t be able to run away from me.”

“I very much doubt it,” she rested her head against the window, eyes on him. “Unless you’re willing to let me know about yours.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He wouldn’t really admit that he felt much better about Rhodey, though.


	14. XIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Exams. Yeah. Sorry. AGAIN.

“Ouch!” Tony hissed, snapping his hand back to his chest, cradling it.

Fawn rolled her eyes and grasped it firmly but delicately, trying not to hurt him while she tapped her foot on the other side of the mattress to the sound of _Kids With Guns_. They were both on the sad excuse of a bed at the corner of Tony’s workshop-lab, blood staining Tony’s side.

“You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you’d used 2% like I told you,” she pointed out, cleaning the rest of the gash on the side of his hand before she took the needle and thread. “You’re lucky it was your hand and not your neck.”

“It works, though, doesn’t it?” he gave her the smuggest grin she’d ever seen and even when she tried to be angry she couldn’t help it, shaking her head with a chuckle.

“You’re a big, fat idiot, Tony Stark,” she sighed fondly as she stitched his skin together.

“This big, fat idiot is letting you hog everything he has, _including_ Pepper. And Pepper doesn’t even like you.”

“The sentiment is mutual,” she replied curly, thinning her lips.

“So aside from watching me be the genius I truly am and smash into the ceiling of my luxurious garage, do you have anything in mind?”

Her eyes found his, gold clashing with sea and Tony thought for a moment that her eyes had something else, something alien in them—something so foreign that he fought a shiver within the low of his spine.

“I have nothing, Tony,” she sent him a smirk. “Why do you think I’m here? I’m a professional moocher and you’re filthy rich. Don’t think we’re friends.”

He threw his head back and laughed—honestly, he didn’t feel the need to retort to that with a sarcastic and/or bitter remark. Fawn was unlike any girl he’d met; she was true, she was honest and she was fucking brilliant. Curiosity crawled outside his throat before he could stop it—not like he would, anyway, or _could_.

“So can I ask something or are you just going to stitch your lips together, too?” he leaned back, hand twitching when she paused for a moment but quickly resumed her medical care. She was almost done, anyway.

“Depends on what you ask,” she hummed, and the song changed to another. He didn’t recognize which one it was, but he knew they were The Cure.

“Let’s do twenty questions, then,” he grinned widely and she raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “For every time I don’t answer, you get a free pass, yeah?”

“Okay, Tony, whatever you want,” she drawled patronizingly.

“Your turn, then,” he offered.

Fawn took her time thinking—she cut the thread, wrapped his hand (knowing he’d pay no attention to it at all and it’d end up infected) and put the medical kit away, sitting with her eyes trained on him. He didn’t break eye contact, almost challenging her. Tony was sure she wouldn’t ask something awfully personal and uncomfortable for the first questions but it just proved he didn’t know her at all.

“Why do you insist on being someone you’re not?”

He blinked at her. Too many times to count. The lab was quiet save for the background music playing, and Tony could do Black Sabbath, he really could, but not when he was questioning whether his curiosity was worth the loss of his dignity.

Anthony Stark opened his mouth, and before his eyes he was all the people who’d left, all the people who’d been there and suddenly hadn’t. He was Happy, Pepper, Obie and he was Yinsen, laughing and smiling and _full of life that hadn’t been taken from him yet_.

He finally broke away from her gaze and looked at his shoes, hand absently moving to his arc reactor. He had the answer on the tip of his tongue but what would Fawn think? Would she laugh? Would she mock him? Would she be like the Fawn Quill he’d known when he’d arrived? So bitter and angry towards him for being a true bastard?

“You don’t have to answer,” Fawn reminded him, pressing her bare knees to her chest. She winced and the image of her bloody and mutilated back came to mind, making him wince back. “You know I respect privacy more than curiosity.”

“I know,” he swallowed. “But for all it’s worth… I do it because it’s easier.”

“I figured,” she gave him a small smile. “I would’ve probably done the same.”

“You already do,” he scoffed, but he did smile back.

“Nah, that’s just the real me,” Fawn let a soft laugh pour out from her lips and he drank it with care, sip by sip, trying to remember every bit because he was as conscious as ever that one day she’d be gone, like everyone else, and he was selfish and didn’t want that to happen again. “Your turn, I guess.”

Tony bit his lower lip, nibbling on it and narrowing his eyes before he let out a little sigh.

“Okay,” he rolled his shoulders and fell back on his elbows to the mattress. “What happened with the whole aliens thing?”

Her face immediately went impassive but he stood his ground. He’d answered her question, she needed to answer his—she didn’t have to, of course, just like he didn’t have to, but the weight must’ve been on her shoulders because she nervously looked at the door and finally gave a nod.

“Jarvis?” Tony called.

“ _Yes, sir?_ ”

“Deactivate all security cameras in the lab and any recording devices there might be.”

“ _Right away, sir._ ”

“Thank you,” she rubbed the back of her neck and faced him fully. “So, uh, I was six, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“And—well, we were at the hospital,” she looked extremely uncomfortable but god, he wanted to _know_. “My father’s family was there because my aunt was dying. Cancer, you know?”

“M-hmm,” he lazily watched her, but still kept his entire attention on the blonde.

“Well, Peter, my cousin, was having a real hard time accepting Aunt Meredith’s illness. He was never the same after she lost her hair and he began to really see what was going on,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, we were at the hospital and she was—she was bad, okay?”

“Okay,” his tone was much softer, since she seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“And Peter—Peter just wouldn’t accept the fucking gift,” her features twisted into an angry scowl. “He wouldn’t even take her hand and—he _ran_ outside, okay? I was just six years old, I didn’t know what to do!” she rubbed her face, but Tony didn’t see a hint of tears at all. “I just followed him, alright? And—and when we were outside he just kept screaming ‘mom’ all over again and then—then this fucking huge spaceship showed up and pulled us both!”

He nodded, knowing she was watching his reaction. To be honest, he wasn’t quite believing it but he was a realist—it’d take more than a few emotional words to make him believe it really did happen.

“And these _people_ ,” she wouldn’t stay calm by now, pulling on her clothes and hair and rubbing her skin uncomfortably. “They wanted to eat us at first but Yondu said not to do it and they just kept us inside this real small cage feeding us something that tasted _awful_ , I remember vomiting and Peter crying about Aunt Meredith and home and—god, I remember thinking that my father would be so fucking mad.”

Her breath hitched, and when her eyes met his he felt guilty, because all he could see was her giving up, knowing it was a lost cause, sending him a smile that screamed rendition and resignation.

“Fawn—” he began, but she raised her hand to stop him.

“It’s okay,” she chuckled. “I wasn’t expecting you to believe it, really. You’re a scientist, Tony, and you need facts and proof, and aliens are definitely something worth science fiction novels.”

“I don’t think you’re _nuts_ , though,” he offered as some kind of apology.

“It’s okay,” she repeated, running her hand through her hair. “Let’s just go back to the suit, yeah? I’ll make some coffee and dinner, you start with the arm design.”

If it had been anyone other than Fawn, he’d have been offended by the order but all he could think about was the perfect coffee she made and the actually very nice meals she cooked (for being a scientist because, come on, who had time for that?). So he smiled at her and rose from the mattress, watching her retreating back.

“Jarvis?” he asked as soon as the door shut behind her.

“ _Yes, sir?_ ”

“What’s the best brand of hair dye?”

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know they seem like filler chapters but I promise you they're NOT. This will be a long ass story with a lot of plot and twists and shit, so yeah, please, bear with me!


	15. XV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, uh?

Fawn wasn’t as smart as people often thought. Sure, she was book-smart, and her scientific and mathematical capabilities were beyond compare, but whenever she stood next to Tony Stark he just made her feel like one more dumbass. In truth, she was grateful for it—alienated throughout her entire life, Fawn thrived life without as much fuzz as the one she had sometimes (more than sometimes). Right now, though, Tony Stark wasn’t being smart.

She was leaning against the wall, listening to the conversation taking place in the living room. She hadn’t met Obadiah Stane but the mere sound of his voice made her wince—he was ever the businessman she hated. Tony lacked the traits Obadiah displayed, and he seemed to become exasperated as soon as he realized that neither Obadiah nor Pepper were on his side with the company’s new direction.

Fawn did not trust Obadiah Stane—he was trying to get to Tony, throwing his arm around him and asking for thei—his arc reactor. Her heart stopped for a second before she saw Tony tense and refuse without hesitation, which made her sigh in relief.

Hearing the steps approaching her, she made no move to hide her actions, and when Tony’s eyes fell on her figure he wordlessly offered her a piece of pizza, which she took with a nod.

They descended the stairs to his workshop and Dummy immediately whirred, offering her a smoothie, which she took without even thinking—the guy made great smoothies, it was impossible to refuse one. 

“So,” she began after chewing the melted cheese, causing him to groan. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“You’re going to play psychologist on me, Quill,” he sighed. “I’m fine, just a bit ticked off.”

“You shouldn’t trust Obadiah,” she told him bluntly.

“I know,” was all he said.

And that was the end of their discussion. They ate their respective pieces of pizza and she stood to help him with the design of the armour as soon as her hands were clean of grease—she hated dirtying his screens.

“You know, you lied again,” Tony began after five minutes into their work.

She cocked an eyebrow, glancing at him, “Oh?”

“You said you have no family,” his tone wasn’t accusing, it never was. But he was speaking too casually—this meant trouble, a lot of questioning, but she already knew who he was talking about.

“Yes, I said I had no family,” she raised the other eyebrow at him. “Do you consider Obadiah or Pepper or Rhodes your family?”

“Sometimes,” he winced.

“Well, I don’t consider what’s left of my family, family,” she stated. “Maybe my cousin Ashton, but I lost contact with him. Leila was one of those girly girls that I didn’t really want to befriend. And Peter—” after a sharp inhale of breath and a hard swallow, she continued, “Well, he’s a whole other thing.”

Tony just nodded, but like so many times he wished he could understand and believe her. Watching from the corner of his eye, he took in her appearance and felt a bit of relief washing over him.

Her face sported only faint bruises now, and only minor cuts could be seen. Her back, though, visible from the loose tank top of her pyjama attire, let him see the multiple wounds inflicted back in Afghanistan, barely a few feet from him. A shudder ran through his spine when he remembered vividly the cries she’d screamed in Russian, and quickly he busied himself with the holograms in front of him.

“What the hell are you going to do with this armour?” she asked, and at his shrug she scoffed. “You’re not just going to build it for the hell of it, Tony, just tell me. I’ll be here, anyway, you won’t be able to hide it.”

“That’s so comforting,” he laughed but it was tight on his throat. “You moocher.”

“You’re going back, aren’t you?” she questioned, this time softly. 

“Yes,” he answered, only after mere seconds of hesitation. 

His eyes flickered to her blue ones, finding no trace of pity like he’d expected. Instead, he found sadness, but not for him—he pursed his lips as he thought of Yinsen, and for the rest of their time in the workshop they kept the quiet atmosphere they’d built.

It wasn’t until he’d finished proving that the armour could fly steadily that they realized just how tired they were—exhaustion was easily fought with coffee, but not this type. And again, it wasn’t until Fawn had closed her eyes and was drifting off that she realized she’d fallen asleep on the foot of Tony’s bed, curled around his feet like Peter and her used to do with her aunt before things went bad.

Before things went really, really bad.


End file.
